when I live from my soul

when I live from my soul,
I hear only a gush
of a simmering silence,
coursing through every pore,
I feel only the call
of a resplendent cosmos
spark these resting limbs
and firefly thoughts,
I see only the changing frame
of a mysterious window,
open to the wind,
light and dark,
I smell the mud and wood
of a wild and simple home,
raised on a warm bed
of dead skin and bones;

when I live from my soul,
I tear open this throbbing heart,
to bare it all and walk on,
even as it bleeds,
with everything I own.